Incision
by warriorfreak
Summary: Swiftpaw is killed in a fox fight and sent to StarClan. There, everything is perfect. But Swiftpaw longs to be alive again, and starts to visit the real world. Soon, he starts to avoid StarClan completely...and before he knows it...he's running from death
1. Adrenaline

INCISION

T.H.U.N.D.E.R.C.L.A.N

**Leader**

Fawnstar -_Dark brown tabby she-cat, amber eyes_

**Deputy**

Tawnyfoot -_Light brown tabby tom, green eyes_

**Medicine Cat**

Patchfur -_Black and white tom, blue eyes_

**Warriors**

Nighttail - _black__ she-cat, amber eyes_

Willowfoot – _Silver brown tom, __amber eyes, apprentice, Bluepaw_

Blackheart – _Black __tom, blue eyes, apprentice, Sagepaw_

Sparrowclaw -_Black tom, green eyes_

Mistywing -_White she-cat, blue eyes_

Hawktalon – _Dark brown_ _tom, amber eyes, apprentice, Swiftpaw_

Frostpool -_Pale grey she-cat, blue eyes, apprentice, Waterpaw_

Blazecloud -_Ginger tom, green eyes, _

Ambertail -_Orange tom with bright red tail, amber eyes_

**Apprentices**

Bluepaw - _Silver-blue furred tom,__ blue eyes_

Swiftpaw- _Pure white tom with a black paw, blue eyes._

Sagepaw -_Dark russet red she-cat, green eyes_

Waterpaw-_ Pale tan she-cat, amber eyes._

**Queens**

Palelegs -_black and white__ she-cat, blue eyes _(mate- Ambertail)

_Kits – Stonekit, Flowerkit_

Greytail -_Grey she-cat with dark grey patches _(mate- Blackheart)

_Kits – Hollykit, Robinkit_

**Kits**

Stonekit-_ Pale grey tom with bottled black patches, amber eyes._

Flowerkit -_Grey and black she-cat, yellow eyes._

Hollykit -_Black she-cat with a few russet flecks,__ green eyes_

Robinkit- _Grey and white she-cat with a few black patches, blue eyes._

**StarClan Cats **_(there are thousands of others, but these are only the ones mentioned at first)_

Starstar- Spectacular p_itch black tom with lots of tiny white dots covering his pelt. Outstanding blue eyes. The original StarClan cat_

Airfeather- _A beautiful calico she-cat with perfect blue eyes_

Mosstail- H_andsome dark grey tom with mottled black on his rump, green eyes_

Whitewhisker- _Gorgeous long haired white she-cat, amazing amber eyes_

ADRENALINE

"Nighttail! Willowfoot! Sparrowclaw! Back them up! Blackheart and Frostpool, you'll be back up! Go!"

Tawnyfoot, the able ThunderClan deputy, crashed out from a tightly woven bush of dead bracken, crunching the thin sticks underpaw. His green eyes blazed with fury and the light of battle. Swiftpaw stayed a step behind him, blood smudged onto his pure white flanks.

"Swiftpaw, head to that clearing and make sure they don't cross it," Tawnyfoot barked, "We have orders to HOLD THESE BEASTS!"

The foxes fought harder than any ShadowClanwarriors. Swiftpaw stood in the clearing, panting as hard as he could. Ahead he could see his clanmates grappling with the red and black dogs. This was a brutal battle.

A stray fox launched itself from the other warriors and raced into the clearing. Swiftpaw met it with a flurry of claws and a battle scream. His claws struggled to penetrate the thick fur.

The fox's slavering jaws and wild eyes were just inches from his face. Struggling in fright, Swiftpaw launched his claws into it as hard as he could. The fox yelped and struggled free. Swiftpaw chased him away from the clearing.

"Hold these positions!" Tawnyfoot screamed as he kicked aside a fox. One eye was scratched over and he had it squeezed close. "Don't let them any farther!"

Several foxes launched themselves at Swiftpaw's clearing. Many other warriors chased after them. One of them pounced on Swiftpaw, bringing a paw down on his back. He felt something snap, like a rib.

"Foxdung!" He snarled, twisting desperately. The fox's jaws snapped next to his ear, and he spun around, striking a claw into it's throat. The fox roared as Swiftpaw slipped free. As he ran for cover, it sprinted at him and leaped, blocking his path. Swiftpaw quickly doubled back.

But it was too late. As he turned around, the fox tripped him with a large black paw. Swiftpaw tumbled to the ground and spun aside. He struggled to stand up, but the fox was quicker. It slashed him open on the side with a claw. He screamed in terror and tried to bolt. The fox's paw smashed down on him. He could feel something else snap, but this felt bigger. Shock pulsed through him, mixed with a adrenaline and a deep, wild instinct to survive.

He whirled around, a ball of desperation, and latched his claws in the fox's throat. It choked and roared, backing up. Swiftpaw tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't work. He couldn't feel his rump. It was paralyzed. Gone.

"Help!" He screamed. "Someone he--"

But the word was cut off as strong jaws closed around his neck. Swiftpaw's teeth clamped down on his tongue and blood filled his mouth and dribbled out, mixed with saliva. He gagged.

The teeth crushed his neck and Swiftpaw slithered from the fox's mouth. He lay in a weak, huddled heap at the base of a tree. A frond of bracken waved in front of him. From his sideways position, he could see the other ThunderClan warriors battling against the foxes. Slowly, it blurred out until all he could see were hazy, blurry blobs of color that slowly, very, very slowly, went out.


	2. Beautiful

BEAUTIFUL

Swiftpaw eyes opened blearily. He felt so tired and so comfortable, lying on a bed of the softest feathers and fluff. He could hear cats talking in soft, comfortable voices. There was foggy movement, people moving about him. Where was he?

He sat up, suddenly confused, but the tired bleariness did not go away. What had happened? He tried to remember the battle. There'd been foxes, and he had to hold the clearing. Oh, he had to go back and do that. He stood up. He needed to go do that. Tawnyfoot hadn't yet relieved him of duty. He had to help his Clanmates.

"Lay back down, young one," said a gentle voice from beside him.

The foggy film was stripped from his eyes and not Swiftpaw could see clearly. A beautiful face looked in at him. The pure blue eyes were huge and shiny, the edge of the iris was black. The fur on her face was combed exquisitely, every hair in line. There were no mistakes, no scratches or bumps anywhere on her face.

Swiftpaw groaned and looked away. He knew how awful he must look, with the scars and scratches on his face from the battle, bits of fur missing here and there. His white fur was probably caked in blood. He did not want to appear like that to such a beautiful, perfect cat.

"Where am I?" He muttered.

The gorgeous calico in front of him blinked her perfect eyes and her face moved into a beautiful smile. "You're in StarClan, dear Swiftpaw. I was sent to retrieve you."

Oh damn, he thought, I'm dead.

"Why am I here?" He groaned.

"You perished in the fox fight," The calico said. "But do not worry. You will be welcome here. StarClan is the best place a cat can go. You will have everything you want, everything you need up here. You will have power. You will have friends. You will be beautiful. StarClan is perfect. You have come home, my young friend."

Swiftpaw looked around, trying to see where he was. The sky above him was pure blue, not a cloud in the sky. The ground was pale white, and the only thing on it for miles appeared to be him and his next made of tiny white feathers and soft fur, and the calico she-cat.

"My name is Airfeather," she said, "I've been here for three hundred and thirty two moons."

"Wow," He muttered as she backed away a little, so he could see her whole form. Every muscle, every fur was exactly in place, her paws lined up neatly, her tail held carefully an inch above the ground. The white fur on her underside was soft but did not get baggy at her stomach, instead it curved upward. Her two ears were clean and pointed at exactly the same angle.

"Soon you will be perfect too," Airfeather told him, "You just need to follow me to the StarClan camp."

She started to walk across the glowing white ground, Swiftpaw at her side. Airfeather moved with a grace and assurance that made Swiftpaw feel like a clumsy, boisterous kit next to her.

"How did you die?" He carefully asked her, not wanting to make her offended.

But Airfeather did not seem at all miffed. "I died of old age, in the elders den. I was many, many moons old and my time had come."

"You were an old cat?" Swiftpaw gasped. He looked her up and down again. She looked hardly older than twelve moons. "You look...very good for an old cat."

"Oh yes," Airfeather said, "When you are turned perfect, you look young again and will stay young forever. I will always look as beautiful as I do."

"StarClan seems pretty great," Swiftpaw muttered, anticipating all the pretty she-cats he was yet to meet.

"StarClan is better than the real world." Airfeather meowed, "But if we told the living that, they would all kill themselves to come here too soon. Life is important. It sets the stage for death. Cats must go through their assigned amount of life before coming to this beautiful haven we call StarClan."

"I was killed young," Swiftpaw noted, "Does that mean that you had only assigned eleven moons of my life?"

"Indeed, yes. The Deciding Comitee knew that you must join us at a young age. It is your destiny."

"My destiny," Swiftpaw echoed.

As they traveled on, shapes began to come into view. Swiftpaw looked ahead eagerly. He could see figures moving around.

Not long later, several cats ran out to meet him and Airfeather as they arrived. Swiftpaw struggled to hide his amazement at their beauty. The toms were as good looking as the she-cats, their limbs and flanks etched with muscles, the fur on their necks thick and soft, their ears tall and perfectly aligned, their noses clean, their eyes crystal clear and bright.

"We welcome you, Swiftpaw," They murmured in soft unison.

Two beautiful she-cats lay their tails on his back and guided him into their camp, through an entrance of gently weaving soft grass fronds. As Swiftpaw moved through them, soft feathers shook from them and onto his fur. He laughed in delight.

The camp inside was huge. It stretched as far as he could see, with beatiful trees, towered above, their long, sheltering boughs reaching down to brush the ground, scattering a few feathers. There were soft feather-grasses growing among the many nests of feather and fur covering the ground.

"This is all yours," Airfeather said, "Feel free to sip the sweet water in any creek or pond you may find, and eat the sweet mice that grow on the mouse bushes at the edge of camp. You may also eat the tasty berries that grow on the berry bushes. You can find them at the trunks of trees. Romp in the feathers, sleep anywhere you like. Mate with any she-cat that welcomes you, befriend any tom you wish. There are no rules here, Swiftpaw. You may do whatever you like."

"Wow," he whispered. Swiftpaw stared at the beautiful cats moving calmly through the feather grasses, their eyes peaceful and their ears relaxed. He saw others snoozing gracefully in the feather nests, their eyes closed in comfort. Others were eating with amazing elegance mice that looked better than anything that could be caught in the forest.

"When will I get turned beautiful?" Swiftpaw asked.

"As soon as I inform Starstar, our leader, of your arrival."

"Starstar? That's a funny name."

"He is the original StarClan cat, named after the stars. He is the most amazing cat to ever have lived."

"I'd like to meet him." Swiftpaw said.

"Maybe," Airfeather said, with a gorgeous smile.

"Can I ever see the living world again?" Swiftpaw asked. He wanted to make sure his Clan was okay. He didn't want his little sister in the nursery, Hollykit to miss him, or his mother and father. Was his mentor doing okay? Had the rest of the Clan survived the foxes? Had they driven them off?

"After you stay with us for five days, you may go into the living world and visit your Clan," Airfeather said, "As a StarClan cat. But, by then, I'll doubt you want to. The living world is an awful place compared to this one."

Swiftpaw flicked his ears, slightly upset at what she was saying. He had liked his life.

Airfeather walked off then to tell Starstar that Swiftpaw was here. While he waited, Swiftpaw tried to clean himself up a bit, so he didn't look like such a disaster compared to the beautiful StarClan warriors. He tried to lick the smudges of blood off his flanks but only made it worse. He picked the eyegunk from his eyes because he realized the StarClan cats had none, and licked his nose. But nothing he did could make himself as beautiful as these cats. His proportions were off, one ear flopped slightly. One eye was a little more closed than the other, and his left front paw twisted a bit to much to the left. And he had more whiskers on one side than the other.

A little while later, a beautiful black and white tom padded silently over to him on the feather-covered ground.

"We are ready for you to turn beautiful," the tom said, "Please follow me."

Swiftpaw followed him into the camp. His paws relished the feeling of padding on soft feathers, and his flank tingled at the grass fronds brushing it ever so gently. This wonderful feather world was so beautiful, so satisfying. He would be so happy here.

The black and white tom stopped not far into the gigantic camp, near a small pool of clear, silver water. A few lilac petals floated around on it. Swiftpaw carefully bent down and took a sip of it. The water was delicious, and instantly he wanted more. He bent down and lapped up mouthful after mouthful.

"Hello," Came a gentle tom's voice from behind him.

Swiftpaw jumped and water sprayed from his lips and into the pool, making it's still surface choppy. He flattened his ears in embarrassment and coughed.

"I-I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't be," Said the tom, a dark grey cat with mottled black on his rump. "I'm Mosstail, I'm in charge of turning newcomers beautiful."

"Is that what you're going to do to me?" Swiftpaw asked.

"Yes," Mosstail said, nodding, "But don't worry, it does not hurt a bit. There is no pain in StarClan."

"What do I need to do?" Swiftpaw asked.

"Lie down in this nest," Mosstail said, pointing at a large one that looked extra soft and full of tiny feathers. "I will give you a special fruit you must eat entirely. You will fall asleep, and when you wake up you will be beautiful."

"Ok," Swiftpaw said. Normally, he would be nervous, but there was something comforting about the way this cat spoke. It was something all the cats had in this StarClan place, they all gave him comfort.

Swiftpaw lay down in the nest and curled up. It was so soft and comfortable he already began to feel sleepy. Mosstail pushed a bright red and orange fruit toward his nose.

"Eat, my friend," Mosstail said.

Swiftpaw took a bite and the sweet tang filled his mouth. He smiled at the delicious flavor and took another bite. Soon he had eaten it all, and he licked his lips and rested his head on the nest.

Mosstail swatted a pod full of feathers with his tail and hundreds, thousands of tiny pink, purple and white feathers floated down on Swiftpaw. He smiled as the covered his white pelt. Then he faded into unconsciousness.


	3. Feathers

FEATHERS

Swiftpaw opened his eyes and yawned. He was comfortable and warm and sleepy. He blinked sleepily.

"Hello, Swiftpaw," Said a gentle voice above him, and Swiftpaw looked into the eyes of Mosstail. "You are now beautiful."

Swiftpaw got to his feet. There was something different about the way he did it, too. His muscles rippled smoothly under his pelt, and he stood in a smooth, fluid motion instead of a clumsy scramble like he usually did. He headed over to the pool of sweet water nearby and peered at himself.

He gasped. His blue eyes had been pulled apart and placed so they were open the exact same amount. They sparkled slightly, huge and welcoming. His ears were spaced evenly and both pointed upward at the same angle. His nose was clean and a soft, gentle black in color, going well with his white fur. It used to be sort of pink and black all mixed up, and it had always bothered him. His neck fur was rich and thick, his paws evenly spaced, and his whiskers lush, even, and healthy. He had lost the satchel that had always clung to his stomach, and each white hair on his pelt was lined up perfectly with its fellows. His legs were long, thin and muscular.

"Wow," He said to Mosstail, "I look great! Thanks!"

"Oh, it's nothing," Mosstail replied, "I do it all the time."

Swiftpaw admired himself a bit longer before heading off into the camp, moving with elegance and beauty. He could just imagine how he appeared to the other she-cats. What grace he possessed! What elegance! Surely all living cats would want to look like him.

"Is it true we can go back and visit the living world?" Swiftpaw asked Mosstail.

"Oh yes," Mosstail replied, looking up swiftly, "After five days here you may go back and visit. You can speak to any cat you wish to. But then you must come back."

"Why must we come back?" Swiftpaw asked.

Mosstail looked a little confused, as if he wasn't used to cats asking him questions like this. "Well, of course, you belong in StarClan. It is your home now. And why would anyone want to return to the horrid world of the living?

"Well, okay," Swiftpaw said, "Thank you. I'll pay a visit after five days."

"You may not want to, however," Mosstail said, and winked. "By then, you may already have several she-cats, a nice hut, and good friends."

Swiftpaw nodded, not asking what a hut was, and started off through the camp.

The StarClan camp was bigger than all of ThunderClan, ShadowClan, WindClan and RiverClan's territories put together. The beautiful feather bushes, the trees with branches that brushed the ground, the soft grasses that ever so often let loose a small flurry of feathers seemed to go on forever, an endless land of bliss. It was so beautiful.

And it was all his. Swiftpaw smashed a few boughs packed with feather and watched new feathers swiftly grow back. He could do anything he wanted here, he could romp all night, and nobody would stop him because everything would just grow back. Every feather, every grass, even the mice hanging on the mouse-bushes. Swiftpaw nibbled the foot off one of them, and felt his body twist in pleasure.

"Excuse me, can I show you to the huts?"

Swiftpaw was eating a plump yellow fruit from a fruit bush when a gently, beautiful voice softly interrupted him. He turned around with a smile and saw a young black and white cat with transfixing amber eyes looking at him with an elegant smile.

"The huts?" Swiftpaw asked.

"Oh, let me first explain a few things," The cat said, bowing low, "My name is Patchpaw and it is my duty to help newcomers find themselves a hut. A hut is a small den. Each StarClan cat gets his own. Let me show you."

He started off running silently and elegantly through the feathers, grasses and nests. Swiftpaw raced after him and he realized he could run so much faster than he could when he was alive, and so much more steadily. As the two StarClan cats ran, they left a trail of floating feathers in their wake.

Finally, Patchpaw stopped. In front of them were hundreds of groups of dens poking out of the ground. They were all identical to each other, each the same amount wide, the same amount tall. Each had a hole carved into one side, probably so light could filter through.

The dens were in little groups of five. The entrances to the dens all faced each other in each group. Swiftpaw looked into a few of them. The walls were lined with soft grass and feathers, and the nests inside were plush and soft. In a few of them, a cat was snoozing peacefully, or eating, or maybe two cats would be in one, talking in soft, beautiful voices. There was even one where Swiftpaw saw more than just cuddling going on between a tom and a she-cat.

"There is one ready for you," Patchpaw said, "We just built it. Please follow me."

Swiftpaw followed him through the hundreds of huts. This area of the camp was a pretty busy place, cats moving swiftly along the narrow paths between huts, each going their own ways. Swiftpaw kept following Patchpaw, smiling at those he passed. They smiled back. Once or twice he thought re recognized cats from when he'd been alive, cats who'd passed away when he was young. But he could never be sure, because they'd all changed when they were turned beautiful.\

"Right this way," Patchpaw said and stepped aside to reveal a freshly built hut with a gorgeously overstuffed nest inside. Swiftpaw smiled.

"Is this one mine?"

"Indeed it is," Patchpaw replied. "I will be going now. Thank you." He moved swiftly off.

Swiftpaw entered the dark hut. Light filtered in through the hole on one wall. He curled up on the nest. It was warm and soft and plush. Feathers clung to his fur, making him close his eyes in delight. The hut was roomy, it could probably hold five sleeping cats. He'd never had so much room all to himself.

He snoozed a little bit. The nest was so comfortable he could not keep himself awake. StarClan looked like it was going to be a fun place.

–

He awoke not long afterward and the sky had changed from sunhigh to near-sunset. He decided to get a couple of mice from the a mouse bush to eat.

When he returned with them to his hut, several other cats were inside the other huts in his group of five. Swiftpaw greeted them with a smile and a nod, then went into his hut to eat.

As he finished off his second mouse, somebody arrived at the door of his hut. Swiftpaw looked up to see a more-than-beautiful long-haired white she-cat with perfectly almond shaped amber eyes and short, perfect ears.

"Oh, hello," he said, drawn in by her beauty.

"Greetings," she meowed with a dip of her head, "My name is Whitewhisker. I live in the hut two over from yours. May I come in?"

"Of course," Swiftpaw said. He let her step inside, wondering what she wanted.

"What's your name?" She asked gently.

"Oh...I'm Swiftpaw." He smiled.

"You were killed young?" Whitewhisker asked openly.

"Yes."

"I had just become a warrior," she said, "I was killed in a fight with ShadowClan. I was a WindClan cat."

"I...think I've heard your name before," Swiftpaw said with a smile.

"I don't think I've ever met you," Whitewhisker told him, "But that's okay! I can meet you now. How long have you been here?"

"Oh, this is just my first day," He answered.

"I've been here for seven days," Whitewhisker meowed, "And...I only have five toms."

"Ah," Swiftpaw said, a bit confused. Five toms? What did that mean?  
"So I was wondering of you would like to be my tom."

"I'm sorry but I'm not sure what that means," Swiftpaw said with elegant confusion.

"It means if you would be a mate of mine. I only have five mates, and I've chosen three of them. I'm trying to get to ten."

"We can have more than one mate?" Swiftpaw asked.

"Of course!" Whitewhisker said, "What would be the fun of only one mate? You may mate with anyone you like. Just ask a she-cat to be your she-cat. If she says yes, you may do whatever you like to her. And then you may move on to another she-cat!"

"But...what about kits?" Swiftpaw asked cautiously. This was making him queasy.

"Oh, you cannot have kits in StarClan," Whitewhisker said, "The ability to have kits is gone. But not the pleasure that comes from mating."

"I see." Swiftpaw said with a forced smile.

"So would you like to be my tom?" Whitewhisker asked.

"Oh...okay." Swiftpaw gulped nervously.

Whitewhisker gave him a deep smile. "I'm ready when you are."

"Wait...does that mean I have to mate with you?" Swiftpaw's heart was pounding nervously.

"Well, because I asked you to be my tom and you said yes, you must do anything I wish, so yes! But it is not a bad thing. Mating is more pleasurable here in StarClan than it ever could have been in life."

"But I don't want to mate with you," Swiftpaw said shakily.

"But you can't get me pregnant! It's failproof pleasure!" Whitewhisker sounded annoyed, "Come on. You _have_ to mate with me. You're my tom."

"But--" Swiftpaw was suddenly too flustered to stay in his hut any longer. He ran out and raced deeper into the maze of huts, trying to get away from Whitewhisker.

That whole tom/she-cat thing is supposed to be a _good_ thing? Swiftpaw wondered angrily when he came to a stop at the edge of the huts. He licked a paw and drew it over an ear, brushing a few stray feathers off. It sounds like force-mating to me! He felt awful, now he'd have to avoid Whitewhisker if he didn't want to face her again. Oh well.

He felt hungry from the whole ordeal and grabbed a couple of mice off their bushes and settled down by a small pool of sweet water to eat them. He surveyed his reflection as he munched. He was still amazed at his beauty. If only all his friends back in ThunderClan could see him now!

Soon I can go back to them, Swiftpaw thought. I just have to wait five days.

I wonder why they make us wait, he wondered, resting his head on a paw. I'm dying to see how my Clan is. And I can tell that...it's going to get boring up here.

His eyes closed and he fell asleep. He slept there all night.


	4. Waiting

WAITING

Swiftpaw romped through the feather land with his two new friends, Creekpaw and Aerpaw. Together they raced through softly padded feather nests for quick napping, splashed through pools of sweet water, and rolled around in feather bushes, seeing how many feathers they could spray into the air. They would tackle each other down in the soft wonderland, pretending they were still alive.

Creekpaw was a light grey tabby with darker stripes. He looked more cute than beautiful, his face turned vacant and innocent, his ears perky and his amber eyes perfectly round. His tail was short and his legs were stocky. He was a bouncing ball of cute, gorgeous, lovable fun. He had died thirty seven moons ago.

Aerpaw was a very serious cat. He had died thousands of moons ago, not long after the Great Clans had disappeared. He still had the accent of his ancestors. He had an interesting coat, dark brows with lots of round black spots, as if he were closely related to LeopardClan. It was likely, actually. He had pure orange eyes and was incredibly handsome. Lots of she-cats swooned at his rich, thick coat. He had three thousand, seven hundred and thirty four she-cats. Swiftpaw could see why.

"Don't you ever get bored here?" Swiftpaw asked him. Personally, he couldn't imagine staying in this perfect place for so long.

"No," Aerpaw said, and shook his head. "This is too much of a good place for one to get bored. When I get bored doing one thing, like drinking sweet water, I go and sleep. If I get bored sleeping, I go eat fruit. I do all the activities and then start over. It is fun."

"Well, okay, that's good." Swiftpaw said, but he didn't believe Aerpaw that much. There was only about seven activities in the whole of StarClan, and he couldn't imagine doing them again and again and again for the rest of eternity.

Tomorrow, Swiftpaw would be allowed to go and visit ThunderClan, and he couldn't wait. Already, he'd been dragging his feet for the five days before. He was already bored here in StarClan. Seven more she-cats had asked if he would be their tom, and they all looked shocked when he turned them down. But he wasn't going to loose himself to a bunch of bored she-cats who didn't even know his name.

"Have you ever left camp?" Swiftpaw asked both his friends as they took a break in their playing.

"We're not allowed to," Creekpaw said quickly. "There's nothing out there, and if we get far enough away we can't see the camp anymore, we could get lost forever. And then we'd wander the nothingness till the end of time. Only a few cats are allowed to go out there, like Airfeather because she was assigned to pick up cats who just died. And Starstar, of course. But he can do anything they want."

"What about other StarClans, though?" Swiftpaw asked, "Like the Tribe of Endless Hunting. Where would you find them if you wandered in the nothingness forever?"

"We don't know about other StarClans," Aerpaw said, "For all we know, the Tribe of Endless Hunting could be another life. Every StarClan is unique in its own way."

"This one's the boring one, then," Swiftpaw muttered under his breath, but neither cat heard him.

"Have you ever gone back to visit your Clans?" Swiftpaw asked after they'd been lying in the feather grass for a while.

"I decided I was going to at first, but after five days I didn't really want to," Creekpaw said, "I mean, this place is so much better. Why go back to RiverClan?"

"WindClan was in turmoil when I died," Aerpaw meowed, "We still had leopards who wanted to live amongst us and we fought to drive them out. I was killed in one of those battles. When I first arrived, I was desperate to see if my father and mother had survived, but when five days passed, I didn't care anymore. They weren't my concern."

Swiftpaw furrowed his brow. Then why did he want to return so badly? Was there something wrong with him? Was he supposed to be having more fun up here in the land of stars?

"I'm worried about my little sister," Swiftpaw said honestly, "Her name's Hollykit and she's only two moons old. She was premature and weak at birth."

"The young ones are always a cause of worry," Aerpaw said wisely, "But I bet you, Swiftpaw, come tomorrow and you won't even remember her anymore."

Suddenly, Swiftpaw felt a rock drop into his stomach. It was almost the end of the fifth day and he wanted so desperately to go back to his Clan and see his little sister and his Clanmates. It wouldn't make sense for him not care in the least tomorrow morning. Did StarClan do something to you on the night before you five-day suspension ended so that you wouldn't want to visit the next day? He surely hoped not.

Just to be safe, I'll stay awake tonight, he thought.

"Let's do something fun," Creekpaw mewed.

"There's nothing fun to do here," Swiftpaw said too loudly.

Aerpaw looked up at him but then back at the fruit he was nibbling. "Eat." He suggested.

"Boring," Swiftpaw sighed.

"Sleep?"

"Boring," Swiftpaw repeated.

"What about romp?"  
"We already did that. Boring."

"Mate?"

"Lame. Boring."

Both Creekpaw and Aerpaw looked at him funny. "You don't like it here, do you?" Creekpaw asked.

Swiftpaw wasn't sure how to answer that. He liked being beautiful. He liked all the freedom. He liked the soft feathers, the good food, and the sweet water. He liked his nest. But he was bored. He was revolted by the free-mating thing. He wanted to go back. He wanted to hunt. He wanted to fight. He wanted to feel pain. He wanted to strip away the warm comfortable, filmy fogginess covering him and be himself, all senses alert, searching for prey in the forest.

"I don't know," he said, and rolled over.

--

Swiftpaw sat awake in his hut. The next below him was warm and soft, nagging him to fall asleep. But he wouldn't. He didn't want anything to come in the night and make him not want to go home.

Home, he thought with a sigh. He wasn't sure what home was.

You're dead now, Swiftpaw, he told himself. You always wondered what death was like. Here you are. Dead.

He moved his head from side to side, uncomfortable and nervous. My mother always said death was better than anything on life. Everybody always told me death was your reward for struggling in life.

He furrowed his brow. Something wasn't right about that.

Then why do I want to go home so bad?

He wanted to be alive. He wanted to be alive very badly. He didn't want to be dead.

Swiftpaw stopped and listened. The StarClan camp was very, very silent. The bright black sky overhead was free of stars or a moon, making it seem empty and cold. He couldn't hear a sound. Where was the bracken rustling in the wind, the soft snores of other cats? He missed it so bad. StarClan was the heaven for dead cats, and yet it was so dead itself. So quiet. So free of scents. So tasteless. Bland. Empty. Dead.

He wanted to sleep. He was tired. But he didn't let himself. Instead, he left his hut and headed tot he nearest pool of water. He took a long drink. He missed tasteless, icy water. The water in StarClan was sweet and warm. He wished he could empty his mouth of taste so he could sharpen his senses. But you couldn't do that. There was nothing here to cleanse you.

It was not at all dark out here in the camp. Light came from deep within bushes, from inside trees, making the camp full of a soft, beautiful glow. There was no moon or stars but the camp was artificially lit anyway.

He stayed awake a little longer until the sky started to grow lighter and the cats moved from their huts and into the camp to get their mice and fruit for breakfast. To avoid socializing or running into any questioning she-cats, Swiftpaw turned and moved the other way at a swift place.

However, he wasn't sure where to go. There had to be some place where you could visit the living world. He searched for some kind of portal. But there was nothing.

Maybe there was a cat he could find, who could help him. He knew that the medicine cat at home, and the leader were occasionally visited by a StarClan cat named Firestar. But finding one cat in the trillions of cats that made of StarClan would be next to impossible.

As he was searching around, he ran into a black and white cat with a cross expression on his gorgeous face, as if he was looking for something he couldn't find.

"Shouldn't you be eating?" The cat said, rather rudely.

"Oh, I'm not hungry," Swiftpaw told him, making his face full of innocent beauty, "I'm looking for someone or something that can let me visit the living world."  
The black and white tom looked confused for a second, his cute, fuzzy brow furrowed. "And how long have you been here?"

"Five days," Swiftpaw confirmed proudly.

The cat glared a little longer than finally said, "Right this way." And led him through the grasses and bushes to the edge of camp. There, several StarClan warriors sat together socializing. Laughter poured out of their conversations. Swiftpaw noticed breifly that they were all colored all black, all white, or black and white mixed.

They stopped talking when Swiftpaw arrived and slightly-glaring, slightly-snobby expressions sliced through their perfect faced. All eyes met his.

"This cat would like to visit the living world," Swiftpaw's accompanier meowed curtly.

"How long has he been here?" One cat, all black, asked with a frown.

"Five days," Swiftpaw said.

The cats looked at each other. More than half of them turned and walked away without a word. Only a few remained, conversing in quiet, quick hisses together.

"You want to visit the living?" One white cat asked, poking his head above his clique of cats.

"Yes," Swiftpaw mewed with the slightest touch of impatience.

The cats argued together for a few more seconds until everyone else left and one cat stayed. "Please wait here for a minute," he meowed and hurried off.

Swiftpaw waited. He watched the sky turn lighter and lighter. He wondered why the StarClan cats were making such a big deal about his wanting to visit. Was he maybe not ready? Was it six days, instead of five? Had he heard wrong?

He waited and waited. Time passed rapidly. Nobody showed up. Swiftpaw began to get bored waiting here, but when he thought about what else he could do, waiting to visit seemed much more fun. So he waited until it a little past sunhigh when a black cat, two black and white cats, and a white cat returned to him.

"We need your name, how old you were when you died, and how long you have been here," One of the black and white's said.

"It's Swiftpaw, and I was twelve moons old when I died. I've been here for five days.

There was a pause. "Why do you want to visit the living world?" The white cat asked.

"I want to make sure my Clan is faring well. There are a few cats I am worried about that I want to check in with."

The cats exchanged a 'what is this cat's problem' look and then the black mewed, "Wait here for a second." And the party of cats left.

It was sunset by the time another cat came for him. This time it was a short black and white she-cat with amber eyes. She smiled at him and asked, "What did you do last night?"  
Swiftpaw was puzzled for a second, before he mewed, "I slept in my hut."

"Did you sleep fitfully? Did you spend most of your time awake?"

"No," he lied, "I slept."

"Alright," she said, "Please follow me."

As he followed her along the edge of camp, he wondered if most cats had to go through this whole ordeal when they wanted to visit. It was sure annoying.

The black and white cat stopped not long later. "Alright, here we are," She mewed.

Two black toms sat guarding a small pool if water with serious, gorgeous faces. They were muscular and thickset. Swiftpaw eyed them warily.

A white tom came and addressed Swiftpaw.

"Hello," He said, "My name is Thornfoot. I'm in charge of all visitations. You have asked to visit the living world and we will grant you your wish. However, we have a few terms and conditions."

Swiftpaw waited expectantly.

"First, you must not share any information on what StarClan is like to any living cat. It has to remain a surprise. That is how the life cycle works. We can't have living cats knowing what death is like. Then they'd all want to come here and enjoy the luxuries, and they'd die before they're ready! That's not right, is it?"

Swiftpaw shook his head.

"And second, you _must _return." The white tom looked at him with strict, beautiful eyes, forcing him to understand. "You must not stay in the living world. The longest you can stay there is a half-moon. And then you _must_ return. Do you hear me? _You. Must. Return._"

"I got it," Swiftpaw said with a nod.

"And when you want to return, say these words: I wish to return to StarClan. You will immediately come back."

"Now look into this pool."

The two large black toms stepped aside and Swiftpaw peered into the water. He gasped as he saw a perfect, overhead view of the entire forest, every tree, every bush included. He saw WindClan's territory, ShadowClan's, RiverClan's and ThunderClan's. He could even see the tiny forms of cats moving around.

"Tell me where you want to go."

"ThunderClan," Swiftpaw mewed.

ThunderClan territory zoomed in so it covered the entire pool now. Swiftpaw looked into the camp and could even see the Highledge.

"Where in ThunderClan territory?" The white tom asked.

"Somewhere near the camp," Swiftpaw responded.

"Alright."

A well-forested area not far from the edge of camp zoomed in briefly then zoomed out so he could once again see the whole forest. A ripple passed through the surface of the pool, making it choppy.

"Jump into the pool and keep swimming no matter what happens," the white tom told him, "Just don't stop no matter what."

"Alright," Swiftpaw rasped. He took a deep breath, trapped it in his longs and jumped into the pool.

The water was warm and pleasant and it pulled at his fur. He opened his eyes and instantly saw a tunnel carved into stone, stretching in front of him. He started to swim rapidly that way. He didn't like it the way there was rock above him and below him, so he couldn't swim up and get air. But oddly enough, he didn't seem to need to breathe.

He kept on swimming. Not long later, the water started to get stronger, the current pulling him along. Soon, it was strong enough he no longer needed to swim. And then it started to spin, and he went around around in circles as the tunnel branched downward into darkness.

Finally it was too dark to see. Swiftpaw floundered and thrashed his paws as he was whisked up, down and around. He didn't seem to need air, but he wondered what would happen if he inhaled water. Could a dead cat die again?

The water started to roar and pound in his ears, but it was too dark to see anything. Swiftpaw thundered down and down, aware of water hitting him at rapidly changing speeds. Just as he was sure it was never going to end, and he was going to be beaten apart by vicious water, it began to slow down. He was aware of himself getting pulled along by gentle water. Light began to filter into the tunnel, so he could once again see.

It got brighter and brighter as he went on, and then the walls of the tunnel curved away from him, and he realized he was falling with lots of water. He was falling down very,very quickly. He couldn't tell where the ground was.

He fell and fell and fell. Then the water began to curl away from him, fading away to wisps of nothing around him. Stars and little pricks of light followed him and he traveled downward, and then he tumbled and tumbled and hit the ground with a soft bump that made him only stumble.

**Sorry for that longer-ish chapter. I liked the way he got back to the real world. It was fun to write. I hope you liked it. Next chapter we get to meet an important cat! Review!**


	5. Sagepaw

SAGEPAW

Swiftpaw got slowly to his feet. His senses were being bombarded by scents, sounds, feelings and sights. The forest was dark and the sky was full of stars.

The crickets were the first thing he noticed. They chriped and chirped. He liked the sound. He could smell dirt and mice and birds and cats. And the dirt under his paws, crunchy and hard but soft with dead leaves and ferns, made him shiver.

I'm in the living world, he realized with a growing sense of excitement. His heart wanted to start swelling. He glanced down at himself.

Around his paws many little stars, or more like pricks of white and yellow light, played at his feet, trailing tinier stars. They sparkled and shone brightly. By the way the fur on his legs was so neatly combed, Swiftpaw knew he was still beautiful. Wait till his Clan saw him like this!

He started through the forest, his paws crunching on dirt and pine needles. He stopped to take a drink from a tiny stream and relished the freezing, tasteless water. If only the water in StarClan was that cold, instead of pleasantly warm.

He knew this place. He knew these trees. He was getting close to ThunderClan. He couldn't wait. Oh, he didn't want to go back! He loved this forest! It felt so much like home, so alive. Oh, he wanted to stay here forever!

What will my Clan think? He wondered. They'd know he was a StarClan cat by his beauty. Oh, if only there was a way to make it seem like he'd never died! Then he could visit this place every day and act like he was still a part of the Clan, only going back to StarClan at night.

Suddenly, that seemed like a really good idea. Already, he could feel that he was meant to be here and not up in the feather land above. Maybe he could try to make it look like he was still alive. They'd guess soon enough anyway, and he could laugh and say yes, he was a StarClan camp. It would at least be a fun entrance joke to play on his former Clanmates.

He looked down at his paws. How was he going to hide the stupid sparkling? Maybe it wasn't noticeable from if you didn't stare at it. He decided that was the best idea. He shook out his fur to make it look imperfect, but when he looked back at it, the hairs he had shaken out of place and had fallen back to perfect order. Oh well. He'd just get to be beautiful.

He could see the edge of the quarry ahead and he hurried foreword. He went around the edge of camp, looking for the entrance.

Suddenly, he stopped. There was something scuffling in the bushes ahead of him, something moving around. He stood, puzzled. What could it be?

"Hello," he called out softly in his gentle voice.

Whoever it was gave a tiny, short scream and raced out of the bushes. Swiftpaw caught a glimpse of russet-red fur before the thing disappeared behind a tree.

"I'm sorry," He called gently, "I didn't mean to startle you. I...I'm not here to hurt you." he wasn't sure to introduce himself or not. As far as he knew, his Clan thought he was dead.

A head poked around the tree. For a second, Swiftpaw was repulsed at the mishaps the face was covered in. One ear wasn't as tall as the other, there was a scar over the nose, the eyes were wider and not as round, the whiskers thin and scraggly. Whoever is was was must be really ugly! The green eyes, however, were pretty in their own way and the darker stripes coating the dark red fur had a nice thing about them.

"Oh...it's okay," the she-cat said with a short laugh, "I was making dirt and I didn't think there'd be anyone out here right now." She emerged from behind the tree and were long eyes searched his perfect face. He noticed that her tail was a nose-length to short.

"Wow," she whispered, "You look..." But she caught herself just in time with a cough and said, "I mean, who...are you?"

"It's..." Swiftpaw started and then closed his mouth. What was he supposed to say?

And all of a sudden, he knew who he was talking to. It was Sagepaw, one of the apprentices. He'd never gotten along with her at all when he'd been alive, but all of a sudden he was seeing another, nicer side of her. He hadn't thought Sagepaw, mean, beautiful, Sagepaw, could be nice. She didn't look beautiful to him anymore. Not at all.

"It's Swiftpaw," He said as straightly as he could.

Sagepaw gave a laugh. Her green irises moved across the length of her long eyes to look at the ground to her right before traveling back to his face. "Oh, I know how that one is. Yeah, we all miss him. Poor cat."

Swiftpaw's heart pounded at how strange that sounded, but he forced himself to remember that he had expected this. "I...I am Swiftpaw. "That was all he could say.

"Swiftpaw's dead," Sagepaw meowed in puzzlement. She leaned closer and he looked into those long eyes that weren't even close to as big and open as the eyes in StarClan were. They looked so foreign to him. "I don't know who you are," she said, "But you don't smell like ThunderClan. I have to tell you to get off our territory."

"But I'm Swiftpaw!" he gasped in desperation, "I'm not dead!"

Sagepaw looked at him, her solid green (they really were solid green!) eyes drilled into his round, perfect blue ones. "You know...you do look like Swiftpaw," She rasped with a tiny shake of her head.

"I am Swiftpaw," He muttered softly, turning his beautiful gaze straight into hers.

"But you're dead," Sagepaw said softly, "You were killed by foxes while trying to keep them from getting any farther into out territory. We sat vigil for you. We even buried you. I swear."

Her long green eyes traveled down to his paws where the little stars sparkled.

"Why are you sparkling?" She asked airily.

"I never died," Swiftpaw told her, a lie forming in his mouth, "I got away before I was badly injured. It must have been someone else you buried. A fox chased me far away from the territory and I ran into a cave. I stayed there trying to survive for several days, afraid the fox was still out there. When I got enough courage to venture out, I realized I was safe and made the long journey back to ThunderClan. Here I am."

He knew his story sounded preposterous on her ears. His pelt was perfect, much, much to perfect for a cat who as surviving in a cave for days.

"But..." Sagepaw padded closer to him and stopped, looking at his flanks. "You're so beautiful."

The words made his head swim. Nobody had ever said that to him before, and it sounded especially strange coming from Sagepaw. Swiftpaw had never been handsome when he was alive. Not ugly, no, but not handsome either. Just...average.

His head swam more when she brushed her nose very gently to the soft, straight hair of his shoulder and ran it along his neck. Then she pulled it away.

"I don't feel any different," He said truthfully.

Sagepaw looked him in the eyes and said nothing. Her long green eyes just stayed there, gazing into his perfect blue irises. He just stared back at her, letting her look at him. He looked at the way little lines, each a different shade of green, moved away from her pupil. They were plain eyes, but they were so oddly shaped. So long! His felt so wide open compared to hers.

Finally she looked away, staring down at the ground. "I-I-I don't know. I don't know if you're Swiftpaw or not. I swear we buried Swiftpaw's body. Who else could it have been? I remember sitting vigil for him."

"I want to see ThunderClan," he whispered, amazed at how much he was hiding from the poor russet she-cat..

Sagepaw sighed. "Alright. Come with me. Or, well...I assume you still know how to get into the ThunderClan camp?"

"Ah...yes. Yes I do." He nodded swiftly.

She followed behind him as he moved around the hollow to where the entrance was. He let Sagepaw go first, however, as they walked into camp.

He stopped when he reached it, and looked around. He saw the warriors den, the apprentices den, the Highledge, the elders den and the nursery. It was all there just as it had been when he left it. Oh, how he missed living here.

"Swiftpaw? Are you okay?" Sagepaw's large eyes searched his.

"Uh...sorry," he muttered, "I was just looking at the camp."

"What should we tell Fawnstar?" Sagepaw asked.

"About me?"

"Yeah. She won't believe it."

"We'll tell her I never died. It's the truth."

Sagepaw sighed. "This is going to be hard, Swiftpaw. But you can still help us, I guess. Fawnstar will be glad to have another four paws helping us. We've been having some...trouble lately."

"Trouble?" Swiftpaw asked her.

"Yes. RiverClan recently lost their leader, Troutstar. Foxstar took his place. She's got high ambitions."

"Really?" Swiftpaw asked, amazed that the stable leader of RiverClan had been replaced in just the short period he was gone.

"It's too late to do anything now, anyway," Sagepaw said with a sigh, "You'll just have to sleep in the apprentices den. Come on."

Swiftpaw smiled to himself. He loved the warm apprentice den, with its sleepy cats tired after a long day of training. He padded in and lay down, Sagepaw on the other side of the den, near her friend, Bluepaw. He was a pale tom, slightly dimwitted, but they enjoyed each other's company anyway.

Swiftpaw lay down but he could not sleep. The starchy, stiff moss below him didn't have the sleep-sucking quality that feathers and fur did. Oh well. He'd have to get used to that if he stayed here.

But he knew he'd have to go back. StarClan had said he must come back. He could not disobey them. They were his Clan now, much as he wanted ThunderClan to be.

He should probably return tonight.

Maybe he could slip back, announce he had returned, and then come right back. Nobody in the living world would have known he'd gone.

But he didn't know how to get back.

Maybe there was a way.

For now, though, he didn't know what it was. So he would stay here.  
He fell asleep and didn't wake up until a cat screamed above him and the sounds of fear and chaos broke out.


End file.
